FALTER

CHAPTER 46: Assertion.

Wisps of smoke rolled across the forest clearing. It had been a foggy day and the poor visibility was exacerbated by the recent shellings. Even now, quiet booms roared in the distance, accompanied by flashes through the white haze.

Leaves crunched under the bare foot of an emaciated boy as he walked through a gap in the woods. His dark skin was invisible under a thick covering of dust. He licked his chapped lips as his bloodshot eyes were drawn to the the middle of the clearing.

An equally thin girl stood hunched over a mangled corpse of a deer. A spear stuck out of it, which she grabbed and pulled out. The noise it made as the sleek metal squelched against the flash sent shivers up Willow's spine.

He continued stepping closer warily. The ragged clothes on his body did little to cover up his bony limbs but he was used to the harsh sensations by now. What he wasn't used to was the burning feeling in his chest as his heart thumped against his ribs. The girl paid him no attention: she continued staring down at the animal through the gaps in her ratty blonde hair. She only faced Willow when he was standing beside her. Her eyes had been sunken in, then, but their iridescent colours still dazzled him.

"You're late," She croaked, without much emotion. "This is dinner."

Her pale white face, combined with the fading blonde hair haphazardly framing her face, threatened to blend into the background of mist. What stood out, however, was the bright red blood dripping down her hands. Willow let his eyes follow the trail she had left.

"Your hands are filthy with it too," A menagerie of ghostly voices whispered into his ears. Willow jumped and looked back at Absynthe, who continued staring a hole through him.

Suddenly, they weren't those hungry kids scrounging in a war-torn wilderness to survive, but two adults looking at each other, and suddenly, the corpse they were standing over wasn't that of a deer, but of Willow's mother. He stepped back in shock, only to trample over another body, and as he looked around, he realized he was surrounded by everyone he had lost.

"What- what is this?" He exclaimed out loud, fear vibrating through every tone as he spoke. "This is us." Absynthe spoke. The voices that always whisper, that are always so loud,

 harmonized with her. "This is who we are. This is who we will be. This is who we have to be."

Ren stormed down the stairs and through the dark doorway. He clutched his phone in his hand, squeezing it with the indignation caused by all of his calls going missed. As he stomped past the statues and intricate carvings on the wall, his footsteps echoed on the somewhat damp bricks of the floor. This location was a far-cry from the rest of the church upstairs, clearly having avoided any renovations, preserving the architecture from centuries past.

Suddenly, the man stumbled over a mass of something. He outstretched his arms, barely catching himself on the wall. As the dim light from his phone traveled over the floor, the sight of one of his followers sprawled out on the ground made him grimace.

The person on the floor was unconscious, with black liquid having ejected out of their mouth and eyes, covering their terrified face. Ren followed the trail of liquid with his phone and saw a pile of bodies leading up to the room at the end.